I put out the sun moon.... The winds and gales are quivering, when to roar, The waves themselves are shivering and trembling hack to shore....
"Listen," said Hiccup, happily, just before he passed out. "The supper is singing."
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Chapter 19. HICCUP THE USEFUL
The four hundred Vikings that were now gathered on the cliff tops broke into wild cheering for Hiccup and Toothless.
They were a strange, barbaric sight, all covered in disgusting green Dragon Snot and Slime, but beaming and shouting with the wild delight of those that have just been saved from Certain Death.
All around them, the terrible fight that had just taken place devastated the landscape. A choking green-gray smoke was hanging around making it difficult to see, but great chunks of Death's Head Headland appeared to have been torn out by the fight. Avalanches of rock were piled up on the beach. The terrible mountainous corpse of the Purple Death lay in the deeper water. Bits of the Green Death's insides and bones were scattered all over the place, while large sections of the heather and ferns were still in flames.
However, by some extraordinary miracle, nearly all the Vikings and their dragons had survived the dreadful battle.
I say "nearly all" because, when Toothless crept
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forward to lick the face of his Master with a flickering, forked tongue, Stoick noticed a ghastly wound on the little dragon's chest, which was pouring with bright green blood. The talon of the Green Death had pierced the very heart of the supposedly heartless little dragon.
Toothless followed Stoick's gaze and looked down for the first time. He let out a squeal of terror and fainted dead away.
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Two days later, Hiccup woke up, aching all over, and very, very hungry. It was late at night. He was lying in Stoick's own great bed. The room seemed to be crowded with a great deal of people. Stoick was there, and Valhallarama, and Old Wrinkly, and Fishlegs and most of the Elders of the Tribe.
There were dragons there too: Newtsbreath and Hookfang snapping and biting around Stoick's legs, and Horrorcow perched on the end of Hiccup's bed. (The dragons had flown back as soon as they heard the explosion and realized the Masters of Berk were Masters once more. Being dragons, they had given no explanation for their disappearance, but they did have the grace to look a little sheepish.)
"He's alive!" shouted out Stoick in triumph, and everybody began to cheer. Valhallarama gave Hiccup a rousing punch on the shoulder, which is the Viking mother's equivalent of a really big hug.
"We're all here," said Valhallarama, "willing you to wake up."
Hiccup sat straight up in bed, suddenly very awake indeed. "But you're not all here," he said. "Where's Toothless?"
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Everybody looked shifty, and nobody would look at Hiccup. Stoick cleared his throat awkwardly.
"I'm sorry, son," said Stoick. "But he didn't make it. He died just a few hours ago. The rest of the Tribe are giving him a Hero's Funeral at this very moment. It's a great honor," Stoick continued hurriedly. "He'll be the first dragon ever to be given a proper Viking burial --"
"How did you know he was dead?" Hiccup demanded.
Stoick looked surprised. "Well, you know, the usual: no pulse, no breath, stone cold to the touch. He was quite clearly dead, I'm afraid."
"Oh, HONESTLY, Father," said Hiccup, in a frenzy of exasperation, "don't you know ANYTHING about dragons? That could have been a SLEEP COMA, it's a GOOD SIGN, probably means he's healing himself."
"Oh, Thor's whiskers," said Fishlegs. "They started that funeral half an hour ago. ..."
"We've got to stop them!" yelled Hiccup. "Dragons are only fairly fireproof. They'll burn him alive!"
Hiccup leaped out of bed with amazing energy, under the circumstances. He ran out of the room and
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out of the house, followed closely by Fishlegs and Horrorcow.
Down at Hooligan Harbor, the awesome ceremony of the Viking Military Funeral was nearly coming to an end.
It was an incredible sight, if Hiccup had been in the mood for it.
The sky was crammed with stars. The sea was glass-flat. The entire tribes of Hooligan and Meathead were gathered motionless on the rocks, and every single person was carrying a lighted torch in one hand.
Even Snotlout was there, trying to look solemn, with his helmet off his head out of respect, and his hair neatly brushed.
"Good riddance to the newt with wings," he was whispering slyly to Dogsbreath the Duhbrain, and Dogsbreath snickered.
"Serve him right for breaking tie Law," sneered Fireworm to Seaslug, who was picking his nose on Dogsbreath's shoulder.
A replica of a Viking ship had been put out to sea and was drifting swiftly away from the island of Berk along the path of the moon's reflection, past the
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weird shapes of Stoick and Mogadon's burned-out fleet.
Hiccup could just see the small body of Toothless laid out in the boat. Beside him lay Stoick's shield, the Dragon's Tooth still stuck in it like a gigantic alien sword. Gobber the Belch sounded a mournful signal on his horn. He was now completely recovered after his unexpected flight.
"P-P-PARPH!"
Twenty-six of Stoick's finest archers, standing to attention at the right of the Harbor, lifted their bows into the air. Every bow was loaded with an arrow in flame.
"N-N-NOOOO!!!" yelled Hiccup, with the best yell he had ever yelled.
But it was too late. The flaming arrows soared gracefully through the air. They landed on the ship and set it alight.
Some of the crowd on the shore had turned to look upward, wondering who dared to disturb this most solemn ritual.
"HICCUP!" shouted Thuggory the Meathead, joyfully recognizing the figure on the horizon. There
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was a murmur of wonder from the crowd, as they whispered
"Hiccup?" to each other, then shouted and cheered and called out his name louder and louder.
Snotlout's jaw dropped open. He looked thoroughly disappointed to see Hiccup very much alive and well. Snotlout could just about take Hiccup as a dead Hero, but a living Hiccup the Hero was going to be very much in the way. . . .
Hiccup was watching the burning ship, tears pouring down his face.
The boat tipped and Stoick's shield and the Tooth fell into the water. Just as the last piece of the boat was about to slip beneath the waves, to be consumed by fire and water, the flames reared up about twenty feet into the sky. And, shooting out of those flames, wings spread wide like a Phoenix, trailing fire from his tail like a comet, came . . . Toothless.
He soared high, high, high into the stars, leaving a path of flame as he flew. He dived down, down, down toward the sea, and swooped up at the last minute, to cries of wonder from the spectators. Hiccup was anxious that he might be in pain, until Toothless zoomed low enough over his head for
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[Image: boat]
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Hiccup to hear the little dragon's rooster cry of triumph.
Whatever Toothless's faults may have been, you have to admire his sense of occasion. Common or Garden dragons are not normally known for their spectacular flying skills, but even a Common or Garden dragon on fire is a spectacle in itself.
Toothless burned through the night sky like a live firework, performing screaming fiery somersaults, and flaming loop-the-loops. The crowd, who only a moment before were expecting to mourn the deaths of both Toothless and possibly Hiccup, were now beside themselves, hysterically cheering as Toothless showered them with sparks.
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At last the fire got too hot for him and Toothless plunged into the sea to extinguish himself, only to burst out again and fly straight to Hiccup's shoulder. There he acknowledged the wild applause with solemn bows to right and left, slightly spoiling his dignity with the odd "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" of smug self-congratulation.
Stoick signaled to the crowd for silence, but only so he could boom out the following speech at f
ull blast:
"Hooligans and Meatheads! Terrors of the Seas, Sons of Thor and most feared Masters of the Dragon! I feel humbled to present you with the most recent member of the Hooligan Tribe. I give you my son --
HICCUP THE USEFUL!"
And the words "Hiccup the Useful" came echoing down from the hills behind and were shouted back again by the cheering crowd, and were picked up and carried on the night breeze, until the whole world seemed to be telling Hiccup that maybe he was going to be Useful after all.
And that, my friends, that, is the Hard Way to Become a Hero.
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[Image: The Isle of Berc Dark ages
Deer Professor Yobbish I am riting to complane most strongly about yoor book
How to trane yoor dragon
Have you ever tried yelling at one of those sea monster dragons yourself
Come to berc and I will show you what I mean
Yours hott very truly
Stock the vast]
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Epilogue by the Author, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, the Last of the great Viking Heroes
The story doesn't end there, of course.
The nineteen boys who entered Initiation with me those many years ago were all allowed into the Hooligan and Meathead Tribes as a result of their Heroic Actions in defeating two Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus in one day. The Battle at Death's Head Headland has passed into Viking legend and will be sung about by the bards while there are still bards to sing.
Of course, there are very few bards left nowadays. What is more, nobody has seen a Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus since, and people are already starting to disbelieve that such a creature could have lived. Learned articles have been written, suggesting that something that large simply could not have sustained its own weight. The dragons that would be my evidence have crawled back into the sea where men
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cannot follow and, what with Heroism being so unfashionable nowadays, nobody is going to believe the mere word of a Hero like myself.
But the thing about dragons -- and I am a person who knows about dragons -- is that it could very well be that they are merely sleeping down there in the black, black depths. There could be numberless numbers of them, all frozen in a Sleep Coma, with the unknowing fishes swimming in and out of their tentacles and hiding in their talons and laying eggs in their ears.
There may yet come a time when Heroes are needed once more.
There may yet come a time when the dragons will come back.
When that time comes, men will need to know something about how to train them and how to fight them, and I hope that this book will be more helpful to the Heroes of the Future than a certain book of the same name was to ME all those many years ago.
It is easy to forget that there were such things as these Monsters.
I forget myself sometimes, but then I look up, as I am looking up now, and I see in my mind's eye a
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shield, strangely changed by a rich encrusting of jewel-like barnacles and cold-water coral, with an eight-foot tooth sticking right out of the middle of it. I reach out and the edge of that tooth is still so bitingly sharp after all these years that just a gentle brush with the fingers might send a rain of blood down on these pages. And I bend my head, not too close, and I am sure I can just hear very, very faintly:
Once I set the sea alight with a single fiery breath---
Once I was so mighty that I thought
my name was Death---
Sing out loud until fou re eaten, song of melancholy bliss, For the mighty and the middling
all shall come to THIS....
The Supper is still singing.
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How to Train Your Dragon Page 11
